twenty

I was created from the lust of broken homes
so I confuse it for love sometimes.
running from the obvious
and believing in the confused.
trusting in friendships
but the ethers know the truth.
I wasn't made with love
just as a reflection of my mother
and I wasn't raised with love
just like my grandma
and her mother.
and my father is a child of twenty
so what love could he possibly receive?
his parents were legally together
but his father was usually seen
with his other family.
and I wasn't allowed to know my dad
because my mother was too angry
so my uncle stepped up
and i never lacked masculinity.
until he created his own mini-me.
suddenly, he didn't remember my birthday
or how to call me back.
funny enough, I was twenty 
when that abandonment wound deepened.
as if i wasn't carrying enough to begin with.